


Afar Casteth a Silmaril

by Moringotho_in_Angamando



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Don't Judge, Gen, Insanity?, i don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4600824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moringotho_in_Angamando/pseuds/Moringotho_in_Angamando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor at the End.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afar Casteth a Silmaril

It burned him, oh how it burned him. He did not know whether he was surprised or not. He did not know anything at all by then. There was just pain, pain in his hroa, but a lot worse, all consuming was the pain of his fea. 

How could this happen? How could this Jewel hurt him so? He had given up his home, his family, his very life for it, it was all he ever hoped to gain for all that he had lost and it burned him. This was impossible, how could it happen?

But the other voice in his head knew the answer. Have you not killed? it asked. Have you not killed the Teleri? Have you not stolen their ships? And burned them? And do nothing as your father lay dying before you? You have failed him, for have your brothers not died? Does the Silmaril not hurt you? No, no, he had not failed his father. He got the Silmaril, the accursed jewel that had cost so many lives, and it burned him. How could it? How? And have you not failed your brothers also? Little Ambarussa, and Tyelko and Curvo and Moryo? Have you not let them die? Have you not condemned Maitimo to years of torment? Have you not failed him constantly after that, have you not failed to hold the Gap? You have failed, failed at everything, failed everyone. You are unworthy, unworthy of such Light. You forsook it when you swore your oath, you doomed yourself five centuries ago, there is not hope.

No, no! He had not failed his father, nor his brothers. Oh, then why are they dead. Where is Atar, where are Curvo and Turko, and little Ambarto? Where is Findarato and Findekano, where are Angarato and Aikanaro and Nolofinwe? Where is sweet Irisse and Turukano? Where? How is it that you live and they lie dead? 

No, no! There is Maitimo, in front of him. There, he is turning his head. But why is his face so anguished, why is there a light in his eyes. The light in your Father’s eyes as he swore the oath, as he lay on your feet, as he turned into ashes… And it dawned on him, the realisation hit him a moment too late as his brother stepped forward. The roaring of the fires was too loud in his ears to hear his own thoughts yet he heard his brother’s quiet voice. 

“Kano, forgive me. I can bear this no more. Forgive me.” The mad eyes met his, and his brother’s forehead touched his for a moment. But only for a moment. Then he felt the emptiness, and his fea felt that last emptiness. He looked up, and Maitimo was gone. He ran forwards onto the edge, and saw a figure wreathed in flame, and then it was gone. 

You have failed, Kanafinwe Macalaure. The Everlasting Darkness shall be your lot.   
He wanted that voice in his head to be quiet, but it would not be gone.   
niether law nor love, nor league of swords,   
dread nor danger, not Doom itself   
shall defend him from Feanor, and Feanor’s kin  
Why? Stop it, leave, leave me alone to my doom!  
whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh  
finding keepeth or afar casteth  
a Silmaril

No, no, not again! Afar casteth a Silmaril.  
He had run to the sea, and found the idea suddenly tempting. He could not think as his hand rose of its own accord. Then it swung back, and suddenly, he felt himself letting go of the stone, flinging it into the Sea. He saw it shine in the air for a moment, and then disappear in the waters. And suddenly the sound of the waves hitting the shore no longer pounded the words of the Oath into his head. It turned into something altogether different, into a melody.

His hands found the harp strapped onto his back. He lifted it into his hands, and did not even feel the pain as his burnt hands plucked at the strings. The sea and he were one, and the voices troubled him no more.


End file.
